


space age crystals

by goinghost



Category: The Penumbra Podcast
Genre: Character Study, Communication, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Established Relationship, False Identity, Hurt/Comfort, Identity Issues, Other, Peter Nureyev's Onion-like Layers, coffee preferences as a plot device, i love to crack nureyev like a walnut and expose the meat inside, so excited i get to use that tag i made up once again
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-09-02
Updated: 2020-09-02
Packaged: 2021-03-06 19:35:38
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,078
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26244265
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/goinghost/pseuds/goinghost
Summary: He would notice things, things that the crew of the Carte Blanche probably preferred he didn’t. Things like the particular hall closet everyone liked to have their panic attacks in when they didn’t want anyone else to see them like that, or the collection of steamy dime-a-dozen romance novels Vespa kept under her and Buddy’s bed. Hell, even the fact that Rita had stopped talking about real streams she’d seen and now seemed to be recounting the elaborate fanfiction she’d read.But the biggest thing was the fact that Peter Ransom didn’t exist.--Juno notices a strange pattern. Nureyev opens up. Rita sure does love watching streams!
Relationships: Peter Nureyev/Juno Steel
Comments: 37
Kudos: 198





	space age crystals

**Author's Note:**

  * Inspired by [only fools follow golden rules](https://archiveofourown.org/works/25097536) by [brunchandtedium](https://archiveofourown.org/users/brunchandtedium/pseuds/brunchandtedium). 



> hi again penumbra tag, short time no see! my posting turnaround is on fire lately which is wild because this fic ended up being much longer than i'd planned. it's not my fault it came out this long, near the end there juno and peter wouldn't stop bantering while i kept trying to wrap things up. 
> 
> this fic was inspired by a single line in the fic "only fools follow golden rules" by brunchandtedium, which is a wonderful fic that you should read! the line essentially implies that peter nureyev has a different tea preference than peter ransom and i thought that was very interesting and extrapolated a whole fic about it and here we are now. thanks so much to brunchandtedium for writing such an incredible fic and inspiring me to write this!
> 
> title is from the song 'i swear to god the devil made me do it' by the front bottoms, which gives me a lot of young, fraught with identity issues nureyev emotions. i also considered another title from the same song, which is "as a liar, i'm a ten" so if you like that better just imagine an alternate universe where that's actually the name of this fic
> 
> cw for brief description of animal death (it's a reference to the ending of the kitty cat caper) in the paragraph that starts with, "The offended noise Nureyev made..." if you'd like to skip it you can begin reading again at, "He’d definitely never heard..." 
> 
> please let me know in the comments if there is anything else that you think i should warn for!

Juno may be living a life of crime now, but he still had one good private eye left, and sometimes, he would admit, it needed to mind its own damn business. 

He would notice things, things that the crew of the Carte Blanche probably preferred he didn’t. Things like the particular hall closet everyone liked to have their panic attacks in when they didn’t want anyone to see them like that, or the collection of steamy dime-a-dozen romance novels Vespa kept under her and Buddy’s bed. Hell, even the fact that Rita had stopped talking about real streams she’d seen and now seemed to be recounting the elaborate fanfiction she’d read. 

But the biggest thing was the fact that Peter Ransom didn’t exist. 

He knew this of course. He was one of the few people in the entire galaxy who knew who stood in Ransom’s place, after all. But it was one thing to know that Peter Ransom was nothing more than a collection of habits and playacting masquerading as a thief, and another to see the very real thief that lived below his surface. 

It started small, a soft glance Juno’s way here, a strange stiffness at the mention of a Brahmese politician there. But as time went on and the Aurinkos approached their final heist for the Curemother Prime, the mask of Peter Ransom started unraveling with a seemingly unconscious fervor, as if the man underneath wasn’t aware just how much he was trying to be known. 

Peter Nureyev began peaking through the cracks of his alias, in ways that seemed both unintentional and purposefully baiting. What started as microexpressions and subtle glances quickly turned into outright contradictions of the Ransom persona. Not anything drastic, but big enough that it seemed weird.

The first time it happened, Juno almost didn’t notice. He, Nureyev, and Rita were all sitting down in the common room to watch a stream together. Juno’s eye had landed on a cover in Rita’s collection that looked mildly interesting, with blue and red mechs surrounding a huge burning metal tower. He pointed at it, “That one, let’s watch that.” 

Rita just shook her head, “Sorry, Mistah Steel, but that one’s a classic mystery and Mistah Ransom don’t like mysteries.” 

Juno looked at her strangely. There’s no way Mister Curiosity-Can’t-Kill-What-It-Can’t-Catch didn’t like mysteries. 

Nureyev seemed to find it strange too. He turned from where he’d been absently scrolling on a tablet to face Rita, “Wherever did you get that idea? _Ocean’s 46: We’re Doing Mysteries Now_ is one of my favorite films.” 

“But, you told me last week that you couldn’t stand ‘em!” Rita blinked her wide eyes at him, “We were about to watch that one about the ancient Venusian princess and her long lost brother! With the huge dragon that was filmed with all these real cool practical effects and the empty ghost mountain, although I’m really not sure how a mountain that’s supposedly completely uninhabitable gets so many ghosts, but ya know maybe that’s part of the mystery—

For a split second, Juno saw Nureyev’s expression freeze. There was a tension in his shoulders that stayed there for just a breath. Then it melted away and he simply smiled, cutting Rita off, “I remember now. I don’t usually enjoy them, but there are a few that I’ve seen that have been worthwhile.” His eyes flickered to the screen and Juno watched him read the name of the movie in a split second before he gazed back at Rita, “ _The Box Lunch Kids: Rock ‘em Sock ‘em Armageddon Bots_ is one of the few mysteries I’ve found myself able to sit through. I would love to rewatch it.” 

He was full of shit. Juno knew he was full of shit. He was pretty sure Rita knew he was full of shit too, although she didn’t look like she was gonna say anything. Juno decided to take her lead on this. As curious as he was, whatever just happened had obviously made Nureyev uncomfortable, and it didn’t seem like something he’d be willing to talk about in front of Rita. 

The moment, if it could be called that, passed. Rita started the Box whatever movie, and Juno settled into the crook of Nureyev’s arm, trying to silently comfort him without cluing Rita into the fact that something was wrong. For his part, Nureyev’s (or rather, Ransom’s) voice stayed airy and carefree throughout. He made just the right kinds of comments in all the right places. Juno had to hand it to him, Peter Nureyev knew how to pretend nothing was wrong. 

But the moment tickled in the back of Juno’s mind even after they’d shut the stream off and gone to bed. Despite the fact that there were far worse crimes than lying about your favorite genre, as he lay with his head under Nureyev’s chin, Juno couldn’t help but wonder what other lies Nureyev had told the crew, and Juno, about himself. 

* * *

Two weeks later, it happened again. 

It’d been a rough two weeks. They’d had some trouble with the local authority of Neptune and so had been forced to stay in orbit for much longer than they’d planned. If there was one thing worse than a group of space criminals that included Juno and Vespa stuck in their ship with no real idea of when they could go planetside, it was a group of space criminals that included Juno and Vespa stuck in their ship with no real idea of when they could go planetside when that wasn’t part of the plan at all. 

Buddy had been in a mood because her carefully crafted schedule was threatened, Vespa and Juno kept butting heads because there were only so many places on the Carte Blanche you could go to to blow off steam, Jet was trying to maintain his composure after he’d run out of his favorite herbal tea because they’d thought they’d be able to make a supply run once they’d landed, Rita was disappointed because she’d been reading up on all of Neptune’s tourist attractions and Buddy had promised she’d get a day to go Neptunian ice fishing, and Nureyev always got antsy whenever he was forced to stay on the ship too long (though he’d tried his best to hide it, Juno could usually tell by now). 

No one had had a good time, so Juno had made the executive decision as the resident Carte Blanche cook to pick up some special items when they had finally landed and been able to go grocery shopping. He figured the Aurinkos could use some comfort food. 

That night, once everyone got back from skipping through fields and breathing fresh air or whatever else they’d decided to do with their day, Juno made a huge pot of tomato soup and at least two grilled cheese sandwiches per person. He’d even splurged the extra 6 creds on the nice cheese that came in a big block and not little plastic wrapped packets like he would normally have used. 

He’d just finished making the soup and was getting bowls out of the cabinet for everyone while the crew started trickling back into the ship when he slapped a hand across his forehead, frustrated with himself. Fuck. Nureyev hated tomatoes. He’d said so to Jet the other day when they’d been discussing the merits of the weird vegetable smoothies Jet liked to drink. He’d tried to do a nice thing for everyone and of _course_ he’d fucked it up (like always, a voice that was getting smaller by the day said in the back of his mind). 

Okay. Well. There was still the grilled cheese. And if Nureyev wanted something else, Juno would make him a salad or something. He’d literally just stocked their pantry, it would be fine. At least now he definitely wouldn’t make a tomato-based meal again. 

By the time Rita walked in to help set the table, the sandwiches were all done and Juno didn’t feel quite as much like an asshole. He’d even managed to convince himself that Nureyev wouldn’t care so he had no reason to be mad at himself for it when the crew finally sat down for dinner. 

Everyone started filling up bowls and loading plates. Not for the first time since regularly sharing meals with Rita, Juno could only look in horrific wonder at the way she pulled out chocolate syrup, sriracha, and mayonnaise and started loading them all onto both of her grilled cheese sandwiches. He was so distracted by her food crimes that he almost didn’t register the fact that Nureyev was digging into his own bowl of the tomato soup. 

Juno wasn’t sure what to make of that. He tilted his head, a strange feeling in his gut. “Ransom,” he said, as casually as he could muster, “I thought you didn’t like tomatoes.” 

Nureyev spent a millisecond looking confused and...panicked? But then his expression evened out, so fast that Juno almost wasn’t sure he’d seen it in the first place. “Oh, there are tomatoes in this?” 

Juno stared at him flatly, “It’s tomato soup."

He laughed like they were sharing an inside joke Juno had just forgotten, “I supposed it speaks to your talents as a chef that I didn’t even notice. My compliments.” 

“Yeah…” Juno dipped a piece of grilled cheese into his own bowl. Conversation carried on around the table but Nureyev was staring resolutely at Juno, as if waiting for him to say more. His posture was relaxed and Ransom’s familiar sharp grin was on his face, but his eyes gave him away. There was a strange anxiety buzzing there, but Juno had no idea why. 

Unbidden, he remembered the stream night they’d had a few weeks ago with Rita, and Nureyev’s well-hidden nerves about the lie he’d told her. Maybe that was it. He’d lied about not liking tomatoes and now he thought Juno was going to call him out in front of the crew, for what? Not sticking to a food preference that he’d apparently made up? That didn’t feel like something to stress about. 

But what did Juno know? He’d definitely had his fair share of anxiety about stupid things. Why Nureyev had felt the need to make up a hatred for tomatoes, Juno wasn’t sure, but it wasn’t like letting him pretend was hurting anybody. And a small part of Juno was interested in trying to figure him out. The detective muscles of his brain didn’t get much exercise these days after all.

Except there was probably a rule against trying to investigate your partner when it didn’t seem like they were actually doing anything wrong, right? 

(But when did Juno Steel ever care about the rules?)

So he let the matter drop. He changed the subject to a story about a person he’d seen at the grocery store who was buying an entire shelf of toilet paper, which Rita chimed in on (she had a lot of feelings about toilet paper crafts), and the conversation shifted from there. Minutely, Juno saw Nureyev’s nerves fade until his grin became genuine and his posture was less posed, though Juno noticed that he didn’t touch his soup again for the rest of the night. 

* * *

In the end, Juno didn’t even need to snoop to get answers. 

It was around eight in the morning. Nureyev had slept in Juno’s room, although they hadn’t done much sleeping. They’d talked (and done a little more than that) well into the early hours of the day. When Nureyev’s comms alarm had gone off at five A.M. he’d decided to try to get some rest. 

Juno, on the other hand, knew that once he got past a certain point, the only thing getting him to bed was his body collapsing from exhaustion, which didn’t happen easily. He hadn’t done more than rest his head against the headboard when Nureyev had, very sleepily, tried to blink awake and mumble a request for coffee into Juno’s collarbone. 

Juno rolled his eye fondly, but untangled himself from both Nureyev’s gangly limbs and the massive pile of blankets Nureyev insisted on laying with. He made his way to the kitchen and filled Buddy’s fancy electric kettle with water. Next step, he grabbed the coffee grounds so he could measure some out into the french press. Why they had an electric kettle and not a coffee maker, Juno didn’t know. He’d asked Buddy once and she’d given some vague answer about it tasting fresher, which he’d immediately dismissed considering Buddy hadn’t been able to drink coffee since Mars’ good old radiation had started eating away at her body. 

There was a moment when his sleep deprived brain panicked because he hadn’t asked Nureyev how he liked his coffee, but then he realized that they’d been on the ship long enough that Juno already knew the answer. In fact, he realized he knew how everyone on the Carte Blanche took their morning drink of choice. It was weird; it’d been a long time since Juno had had non-Rita people around him with preferences to memorize. Mick was his best friend and Juno didn’t even think he could say whether he preferred coffee or tea (although he knew what kind of alcohol he liked). 

Nureyev drank his coffee black, a fact that Juno found funny and confusing. He always seemed like the kinda guy who needed anything remotely bitter covered in six layers of sugar just to make it palatable. Juno himself preferred as much creamer as he could pour in without overflowing the mug he was using. He was bitter enough as it was, he didn’t need his coffee to be too. 

The kettle beeped incessantly and it took Juno a bit to figure out how to shut the damn thing off again, but he got it eventually. He poured the water into the french press and let it sit for a moment before pushing the plunger down slowly. Juno grabbed two mugs from the cabinet (one that read “BOSS LADY” in bold letters that Rita had bought him for his birthday a few years back, and one that Juno was pretty sure Buddy had gotten Vespa last time they’d been planetside that read, “Sorry I’m Already Taken By A Super Sexy Doctor”). He filled both mugs up with coffee, poured his usual amount of creamer, and made his wake back to his bedroom. 

Nureyev looked as if he hadn’t moved since Juno left. It was kinda funny, Juno didn’t think he’d ever seen Nureyev this relaxed. Usually he was always at least a little bit on alert, but he didn’t even seem to notice when Juno stubbed his toe on the door frame and cursed loudly in his attempt to not spill their coffees.

Once his toe stopped throbbing he walked into the room and sat his mug down on the small bedside shelf. Nureyev had immediately fallen back to sleep so he shook his shoulder lightly to wake him up. Nureyev swatted at Juno’s hand, but when Juno didn’t stop shaking him he relented and sat up clumsily. Juno passed him his glasses from the shelf first before handing him his mug. He gave a catlike yawn, resting his glasses crookedly on his face and blinking as if seeing the world for the first time. Juno smiled at him while he sipped from his own coffee and tried not to think about how little sleep he’d gotten. 

After a second or two where they both just looked at each other, Nureyev’s eyes started to droop and Juno tapped a knuckle to his partner’s forehead, “Hey, you awake in there?”

“Hmm, yes, dear,” Nureyev mumbled. He did not look anymore awake. 

Juno laughed, “Better drink that coffee before it gets cold, you look like you need it.” 

Nureyev bobbed his head and took a big swig of his drink before immediately sputtering and getting coffee all over Juno’s sheets. Juno startled, unsure of what just happened. “What’s wrong?” he asked. 

“Why would you give me black coffee?” Nureyev moaned dramatically, leaning into Juno but being mindful of their mugs.

Juno felt that weird twinge in his gut again, like he’d had the other night at dinner. “I’ve only ever seen you drink black coffee.” 

He felt more than saw Nureyev stiffen. Juno waited for a second to pass and Nureyev’s body to relax with practiced ease, like it did every time something like this had happened. But the seconds ticked by and he stayed firmly pressed into Juno’s side with all the give of a brick wall. 

The silence became too uncomfortable for Juno. He nudged Nureyev’s shoulder with his own and prompted, “Nureyev?” 

There was no response for a few moments, then a shaky breath. Nureyev was definitely awake now. He said in a soft voice, “Ransom prefers his coffee black.” 

“What?”

“The reason you’ve only ever seen me drink black coffee,” he elaborated, “It’s because Ransom prefers it that way.”

Juno gave him an incredulous look, “But you don’t.” It wasn’t a question.

Nureyev answered it like one anyway, “No, I don’t.” 

“Why does Ransom like his coffee black when you don’t? Why does Ransom even have a way he likes his coffee?” 

Juno felt Nureyev slump against him, no longer just leaning lightly into his side. Juno was sure he was the only thing keeping him upright. He took Nureyev’s mug from him and sat it on the shelf with his own so they wouldn’t have to worry about cleaning up spilled coffee later. He brought a hand up to rub at Nureyev’s back and watched him out of the corner of his eye. He looked deep in thought. 

Finally, Nureyev spoke, “I am very good at what I do.” In any other circumstances, Juno might have made a comment about how humble he was too, but Nureyev’s serious tone and the way his hands were clasped tightly in his lap told Juno that now wasn’t the time, so for once he kept his mouth shut and listened. 

“I am good at what I do,” Nureyev repeated, “And in order to be good at what I do, a certain level of...commitment is required. Anyone can make up a fake name and print it on a passport, but a skill I have honed is the ability to _become_ that fake name.” He unclasped one hand to bring it to his face and adjust his glasses, “It used to be something of a game. Pretending to be someone—anyone else. Becoming worth half a billion creds in nothing but clothes I’d stolen from a laundry line so that I could trick someone out of their pearl necklace. Waltzing into a five star restaurant where there were dishes worth more money than some of my organs and captivating the guests with a story I’d rehearsed relentlessly, all to pick their pockets easier.”

Nureyev readjusted himself, taking some of his weight off Juno so that he could fiddle with a pillow case to his left more easily. Juno had noticed that Nureyev preferred to always be in motion, a constant stream of flicking fingers and bouncing legs whenever he felt comfortable and safe enough to do so. 

“Eventually, the rewards—and the risks—of my jobs became greater. Others heard of my exploits, the nameless thief with too many names. I began getting hired by those with very heavy hands. The fake names became less of a fun but necessary part of the trade and more of an active shield.” He smiled ruefully, “You cannot catch what you can’t name. I threw myself into my aliases, embodying a character as if I’d been that person my entire life. Any detail can be used to track you if someone knew how to look, and so I started controlling the details. At first, I only included big information when forming a new disguise, things like their mother’s name or how many siblings they had. However, it quickly became clear to me that when I didn’t have an answer prepared there would be cracks in the mask. Small ones, imperceptible unless you were looking for them, but sometimes people looked.”

Juno didn’t know what to say, or if he should say anything at all. It seemed like Nureyev had wanted to say this for a long time and so he was trying to plow through it as efficiently as he could. Juno wasn’t sure if him interrupting would make things any easier. 

Unaware of his struggle, Nureyev continued, “I became more thorough. I developed reference lists of habits and favorites and all other manner of things that I could pull from when forming new aliases. I began collecting ways to perform temporary body modifications, things like fake piercings or tattoo patterns. I prepared answers to questions that had little to no relevance to the jobs at hand, but just in case I’d need an answer."

Nureyev finally turned his head so he was looking directly at Juno. “All of this to say that I developed Ransom as much as I had any other alias, but the longer I’ve been on this crew, the more trouble I’ve had...maintaining him.” He lifted his hand from the twisted-up pillow case he’d been messing with and ran it through his hair. It was still wild from sleep, and the hand didn’t fix it any. Juno was struck with the sudden urge to reach out and try to push it back for him. He didn’t. 

“I’m not sure what’s happening,” Nureyev continued. “Frankly I—” he cut himself off. His next words were spoken so quietly, Juno would’ve believed he’d imagined them if he hadn’t seen Nureyev’s mouth moving, “Frankly I wasn’t sure there was much left underneath.”

Juno reached out and grabbed his hand, giving it a small squeeze. Nureyev’s expression didn’t change, but he squeezed Juno’s hand back. He thought he should let the moment rest like that for a little bit, but Juno Steel wasn’t very good at doing what he should. And he had an idea. “So getting caught in those little lies, that was Peter Nureyev coming through?”

“In a manner of speaking, yes.” 

“Hmmm,” Juno considered him, “Then I’ve got a really important question.” 

“Yes?”

“How do you actually like your coffee?”

Nureyev laughed and then looked surprised, as if it had been startled out of him. He looked off-kilter for a few seconds before he shook his head like Juno had seen Vespa do and said, “A reasonable amount of milk and what some consider an unreasonable amount of sugar. I’ve been told that anything past three packets is just excessive, but honestly coffee is too bitter for my tastes. I usually prefer tea, although I’m not picky on what kind.” 

He said the words in a rush, almost like if he didn’t get them all out as fast as possible they’d be trapped in his throat forever. The subtle anxious energy that Nureyev exhibited whenever his mask slipped another inch off was in full force, but there was something else in his eyes, a spark of determination. Juno couldn’t read his mind anymore but he could tell that he’d made it up about something. Given what he’d just said, Juno could guess what it was.

He decided that there were worse things he could do than help nudge Peter Nureyev towards the mortifying ordeal of being known. 

“Is your favorite stream seriously one of the _Ocean’s_ movies?”

Nureyev gasped, raising his hands in mock offense, but his soft smile gave him away. He looked like he was embracing Juno’s maybe-not-so-poorly-timed tonal shift, “ _Ocean’s 46_ is a masterpiece. I’ve never been on the edge of my seat for an entire film before. Usually I find them quite boring.” 

Juno grinned back, “C’mon, the whole reveal where the diamond thief was actually the reanimated corpse of Debbie Ocean was so predictable. Guessed it in the first act.” 

“You guessed one of the greatest plot twists in cinematic history?”

“I wouldn’t even call it a plot twist,” Juno rolled his eye, “Her name was engraved on, like, half the evidence they found in the first ten minutes.”

Nureyev sat up straighter, no longer relying on Juno’s posture to keep him stable. He gesticulated wildly, in a way Juno hadn’t seen him do since he joined the Aurinkos. Or, he guessed, hadn’t seen _Ransom_ do since joining the Aurinkos. “She’d been dead for hundreds of years at that point!” 

“Yeah, which is why they opened with a flashback to the creepy doctor guy from the 37th one who brought his dog back to life.” Juno crossed his arms, but he was still grinning, “Clumsy foreshadowing at best.”

Now it was Nureyev’s turn to roll his eyes. Juno was very familiar with Ransom doing that particular move. “Oh, please. _Ocean’s 4: Martian Drift_ is the most contrived film in the franchise. It’s practically a fan film with all that it’s dripping with mishandled self indulgence on the director’s part.”

“Newsflash, Nureyev,” Juno huffed a laugh that he tried to make both good-natured and jokingly harsh. It came out more dry than he wanted but Nureyev’s anxiety seemed to have all but melted from those bright eyes regardless, and Juno felt like he was on the observation deck looking out at the stars for all they shined. “But it’s always a different director and the only thing keeping those movies together is nostalgia and the budget of a media monopoly. They’re _all_ fan films.” 

The offended noise Nureyev made at those words sounded a little like the time Juno had listened to a cat explode over a Hyperion City alleyway. It was some kind of mewling mess that was almost too high pitched to register. He’d definitely never heard that sound come out of Nureyev’s mouth before. 

“Yeah, yeah, the truth hurts,” Juno said, waving a hand, “Anyway, we shouldn’t be talking about how wrong your stream opinions are, we should be talking about the fact that you thought it was necessary to make Ransom hate tomatoes.” 

Nureyev shrugged, continuing to talk with more body language than Juno was used to seeing from him, “To tell you the truth, it was incidental. I happened to be eating a salad with tomatoes in it while finishing Ransom’s profile and I needed an extra fact to round him out.” Nureyev’s eyes darkened, “Most of Ransom’s profile had been...previously put together, although some heavy revisions were needed. The work that had already been done allowed for some added spontaneity where I would normally think more carefully about certain decisions.”

Juno nodded, taking a moment to scope this more expressive Nureyev for signs of distress, knowing who exactly had put the old Peter Ransom together. But the only thing that he noticed was Nureyev’s throat bobbing like something was caught in it. He watched him start to say something before abandoning it to the silence that was rapidly falling around them. It didn’t feel awkward, just charged with potential that Juno wasn’t sure was his to utilize. Nureyev seemed to be trying to get something out. 

The silence stretched on. Nureyev kept looking like a thought-provoking frog was caught in his throat and Juno started fidgeting. He tapped his fingers against his legs and felt inexplicably like he was waiting for a stream to stop buffering. After a minute or two passed, he opened his mouth to break up the quiet when Nureyev beat him to it. 

“Juno.” he said, his tone more sincere than Juno had expected.

He tried not to sound strangled at the newfound seriousness of the conversation, “Yeah?” He grunted. 

“I just want to say...thank you. For listening. For allowing Peter Nureyev a place in your bed.” Nureyev ran his fingers through his bed head again. Idly, Juno realized that Nureyev was still in his sleep clothes, just a pair of briefs and one of Juno’s t-shirts, one sleeve resting down his shoulder. It made what he was saying sound even more vulnerable. He felt the weight that Nureyev had just passed his way like a ton of bricks. “Even for dealing with my perfectly adequate stream opinions,” he continued with a slightly watery smile. Juno really hoped he wasn’t about to cry. He wasn’t sure what to do with a crying Peter Nureyev. 

He waited for Nureyev to say something more, something that Juno would actually be able to respond to. Nothing came. _You asked for this, Steel,_ he thought to himself, _you wanted to push him down the path of being known. Here he is trying to be known._

“It’s—-yeah. Yeah, of course.” He racked his brain for something better to say than just agreeing with him, “And for what it’s worth, I’m pretty sure Peter Nureyev has a place everywhere aboard the Carte Blanche.”

Nureyev’s gaze softened and he released a tension Juno had been too wrapped up in his own head to notice. _Nice going, Steel._ But he supposed it had worked out anyway, if the fact that Nureyev then wrapped his arms around Juno in the same rushed way he’d spoken earlier—like if he didn’t do it right then it wasn’t going to happen—was anything to go by. It was a little weird, because Juno had never known Nureyev to be nervous with physical affection before. But maybe it was just another layer of Peter Nureyev that Juno was going to have to unravel, now that he’d practically been invited to. 

Peter Ransom and Duke Rose and Rex Glass and whoever else were made up by a man Juno was just getting to know. That man gestured wildly with his hands when he felt safe, was passionate about a frankly terrible movie, and put an obscene amount of sugar in his coffee. And there were a thousand other things that Juno could say about Peter Nureyev, and there were a thousand other things that Juno didn’t know yet, but he wanted to find out. Not because he deduced them, but because the man himself trusted him enough to tell Juno about them.

With everything he had left to learn about Nureyev, Juno knew one thing he’d taken for granted until now maybe: he was real. Even if he went back to channeling Ransom when interacting with the rest of the crew, Juno didn’t think he was ever going to forget that fact. 

**Author's Note:**

> thank you so much for reading! as always i am on [twitter!](https://twitter.com/GHOSTZVNE) where i head a fake club i made up called "lesbians for peter nureyev" that consists of me and my roommate so far. if you are a lesbian for peter nureyev feel free to let me know. if you aren't a lesbian but you're still for peter nureyev feel free to also let me know! i just love peter nureyev 
> 
> i feel the need to add that  
> 1) the super sexy doctor mug is a real mug i found on google. the internet is amazing  
> 2) i don't think ocean's 46 is the 46th ocean's movie but it's definitely up there. i imagine it gets its name much like its ancient predecessors, because it's about 46 people trying to solve a mystery together.  
> 3) ocean's 4: martian drift aka the 37th installment in the series was critically reviled and has the worst score of any movie on space rotten tomatoes. it's regarded as the worst movie in the franchise  
> 4) if you've read the fic i posted a few days before this, you'll notice i mention the panic attack closet again. i'm trying to get it to catch on haha
> 
> comments and kudos are always special to me and usually make my next 24 waking hours so please drop some if you'd like!


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